The Butler weekly times., 1887-02-02

The great pianist invited me to lunch
with him one Monday at his boarding
place on Beacon street He said he was
depressed, and wanted to make some
body AS miserable as he was himself.
He preferred a friend for this object,
and suggested that if would be that
friend he would appreciate my voluntary
submission to suffering rs a proof of
sincere amity. 1t was always difficult
to tell when Won Bulow was jesting. for
his manner was invariably earnest.
However, l consented TO lunch with
him. whereupOn he took my arm, and,
as We walked. he urged me solemnly to
avoid music as topic for conversation,
unless l mad something startling 10 pro-
pose, such as new resolution of chord
of the ninth or plan for the simuita-
neous destruction of all the piano-forte
manufacturers in the world. He grew
eloquent upon the subject of the fine
lunch he had offered and had accept
ed. and in the course of the conversa-
ton enlarged upon the epicurean de-
lights that Munich presented to the bon
rsua"t. ending with An invitation to me
TO visit that art capital with him in
order 10 eat a black radish and to try
the beer ut the Hofbraucrei.
The banquet consisted of minced fish,
baked beans. and brown bread of the
day before, and other fare in kind. we'll
prepared and we'll served enough, but
food for which | have no especial fond
ness therefore ate sparIngly. which
Won Bulow observing. said: but YOU
don't eat, my dear fellow! You are of
Boston. The beans are of Boston; the
brown bread is of Boston. Feast" 1t
was impossible to avoid laughing at his
grave solicitude for my comfort and at
the manner in which he enjoyed his
curious joke. for joke it was. Presently
new idea seemed 10 strike him. for he
summoned . waiter. and after an en-
couraging glance at me. ordered that
worthy to bring to the table the bottle
bearing the name Won BUlow on q label
about its neck. The wine was brought
and my glass was filed with claret.
waited for Won Bulow to fill his own;
but he said he could not drink, as it
affected his head at once. l put the
wine to my lips 1t was sour as ver-
juice and as bitter as gall. l replaced
tine glass on the table with as little de-
lay as possible. He had watched me
with great interest and when he saw
the unfsvorable effect his wine had
made. said inquiringly: Don't you
like ite" Upon informing him with as
much delicacy as could summon that
the claret WAS abominable, he shook his
head sadly. and observed: ut must be
so! Now am convinced. You are the
seventh guest have invited hero who
has condemned that same bottle of
wine! The only apology have is that
| l have kept my word to you Ipromised
to make you miserable. know have
succeeded"
On another occasion Won Bulow con-
fessed to ME that he wanted to make =
joke. This time all was open and
| above board. He wished to do o SER
vice 10 his agent, ono Wertheimer, and
he thought he could best do it by writing
and publishing comic song. A comic
| song by the classical Won Bulow would
be sure to have an immense sale, and
| Wertheimer would reap q large profit
from it Words were wanted, and Won
| Bulow asked me to write him a few
humorous stanzas, of which the burden
or catch-word was to be "A little more
gingerr' then, I believe, q popular
slang term. l wrote and delivered the
words, and Won Bulow told me to call
upon him the next day to hear the we'd
ding OF my words to music by him. I
went and after the composer had told
me his success in finding g tune he sat
at the piano and played it Never did
l hear more cramped, unmelodious.
and unsingable melody, and the piano
forte accompaniment bristled with diff
cultIes. requiring a skill no less than his
own to play: | was amazed-speech-
less! We'll" he said, turning on the
piano-stool, "what do you think OF it,
poet? told him with the most perfect
frankness that the voice part of his
musical joke was unsingable. and the
piano part unplayablc. MY dear fell
!cw," he said, with something of pity in
his tones. that is the joke" ."-Boston
Saturday EUening Gazette.